Beginning of Balance
by SkySong2
Summary: Bobby and John are new to Xavier’s, and not truly easy with one another. But two individually planned late night outings change that, and they wind up striking balance. Heavy foreshadowing.


**Beginning of Balance**  
**Authors:** SkySong lj userskysong6161>, Chaku lj usershoeboxqueen>  
**Rating:** PG13 for the making out.  
**Pairing:** Iceman/Pyro (movieverse)  
**Summary:** Bobby and John are new to Xavier's, and not truly easy with one another. But two individually planned late-night outings change that, and they wind up striking balance. Heavy foreshadowing.  
**Wordcount:** 4152  
**Authors Notes:** u>SkySong /u> - It was really just supposed to be a quick PWP involving an unlikely place – Xavier's kitchen. Instead, it somehow evolved into Bobby and John having Deep Meaningful Thoughts and metaphors and making out instead of having wild monkey sex. Expect a sequel however – possibly a lot of sequels. Since this wasn't i>started /i> seriously, there are some rough spots that'll have to be ironed out later.

-------------

Bobby was a creature of habit, and as the adage went: old habits died hard. Xavier's was still strange to him - his new _roommate_ was somewhere between funny and annoying - and Bobby required his creature comforts. When the arguing between his parents got too much, and Rony's whining had gone past his tolerance point, Bobby indulged in ice cream. At first he hadn't really understood the compulsion to eat cold food - most boys his age would go out, bullshit with friends, masturbate, hell, _anything_. But Bobby was compelled to eat ice cream when he was feeling troubled or restless.

"What the hell are you still doing up?" John asked, walking into the kitchen to find his roommate. He had been hanging around the Rec Room, watching a monster movie marathon, and had figured everyone would be asleep by now. He had also figured that now would be the perfect time to stuff his face and not worry about looking like a pig because no sane person would be up this late. Except, there was someone up this late and it was his prudish roommate. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"I'd say it's past yours too John." Bobby raised an eyebrow, and waved a spoon absently before sticking it back in his mouth to try and get the remaining ice cream off of it. "Can't sleep." Bobby hadn't quite settled yet. He was still too anxious. Mutant mutant _mutant_? It still felt like some kind of disease.

John had arrived at the school a little after Bobby, but he was more comfortable than the other mutant was. During the course of his life, he had learned to adapt to whatever situation life tossed his way. "What? Need your blankie, Drake?"

"Why the hell do you keep calling me by my last name anyway?" Bobby turned the subject away. Ice cream was _not_ a blanket damnit!

"Bobby sounds like you're five," John said, sitting down at the table and tapping his fingers against the wood. "Robert sounds like you have a stick up your ass. Drake works for me."

"Don't call me that. Drake's what people call my dad. Mr. Drake this and that and shit." His mother always hung up the phone every time someone called looking for a 'Mr. Drake.' Bobby knew because then she'd rant about it. "And since when did you care whether or not it sounded like I was five? You don't give a damn about anything." Or so it often seemed to Bobby anyway.

"Don't curse," John said automatically. It didn't sound right coming from Bobby's mouth. "And I give a damn about things," he added, fingers still tapping away. His fingers were relentless, never staying idle for too long. "Just not often."

"And you care whether or not I have a name that sounds like a four year old?" Bobby asked dryly, and an eyebrow rose.

"Five," John corrected. "And yeah, because I don't hang out with losers."

"Then hang out somewhere else Johnny." Bobby was having Personal Crisis time and didn't feel like having John be a smart-ass about it. He dug the spoon more viciously than necessary back into the galleon of starbucks java mocha.

"What's biting your ass?" John asked, watching as Bobby stabbed at his ice cream. What did the poor ice cream ever do to Bobby, huh?

"Family problems. You wouldn't care." In went the ice cream! It was a small wonder Bobby hadn't bloated up at this point from all the therapeutic ice cream he'd consume.

"Family problems," John repeated. He knew all about family problems. _His family_ was one big problem. "Try me," he challenged.

Bobby snorted, but with the ice cream in his mouth that caused things to go down the wrong way and he started coughing instead, trying not to spew ice cream all over the counter and with his hand over his mouth stumbled over to the sink so he could hack without making a mess.

John watched, only slightly concerned. "You done coughing up that lung of yours?" He asked, ready to stand and...do what? Pat Bobby on the back until he stopped, probably.

"Yea." There was another cough, and Bobby reached to grab some paper towels. "Great. Now I have to go see Dr. Grey about getting it put back in now." A joke? Out of _Bobby_?

Lame, but John was willing to work with it. "Man, I wouldn't mind coughing up a lung if it meant having Grey's hands on me," John commented, his fingers resuming their tapping.

"... ok, that's gross man. Dr. Grey is what, at least fifteen years older than you?" Bobby had a strong division between himself and 'adults,' and Jean was very firmly on the other side of it.

"...So?" John asked, eyebrows raised. He grinned. "What, you're not into girls or something?" Because only someone not interested in women wouldn't admit that Jean Grey was hot.

"I'm not into _women_ who are a good decade older than I am." Bobby raised an eyebrow. "And be careful not to let Summers hear you talking about her like that. He'll kick your ass and then I'll have to listen to you whine."

John rolled his eyes but didn't say anything in return. Getting up again and stretching, he made his way over to a cupboard to find some snacks. He knew that Lee girl kept some of her Sugar Bomb cereal somewhere there...Aha! There we are, he thought, reaching pass canned fruit to pull out the hidden sugary treat.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, and would have made a comment along the lines of, 'isn't it early for that dyed sugar-cube stuff?' But Bobby was nearly through a galleon of ice cream, so that would be hypocritical. Strangely enough, John had distracted Bobby enough from his inner angst, and Bobby focused on watching John. It wasn't really often Bobby could just _watch_ John, despite the fact that they roomed together. They still didn't know each other well. He did however, make sure he wasn't staring when John turned around, his attention back on his rapidly depleting supply of ice cream. Oddly enough, he felt better. And it had nothing to do with all the junk he'd consumed.

John rummaged around another cupboard for a bowl, found a clean spoon in a drawer, and pulled out some milk from the fridge. "So, you do this late night snack thing often?" John asked, scratching at his chest unconsciously, before pouring the cereal and milk into his bowl. He was asking because sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night, with the room half frozen and Bobby nowhere in sight. Those nights, he would wonder if he should be a good friend, (Were they friends yet? John didn't know.), and find the ice mutant to see what was up. Instead, he would thaw out the ice with his own powers, grab another blanket from his trunk, and go back to bed.

Bobby nodded absently. "Though sometimes I just go down to the basketball court." That was if there was no ice-cream, or if Bobby had woken up with energy to burn. He wasn't a rule-breaker by habit, but he figured that there was really nothing wrong with what he'd been doing. He just didn't like being cooped up with his parents arguments bouncing around in his head.

"You never answered my question, what's got you up so late at night and so often?" John asked again, knowing it had something to do with family problems, but not exactly sure what that could be. Did Bobby's parents hit him? Were they messed up as his own 'family?'

Bobby stared into the depths of the empty ice cream carton, tempted to use it as an excuse for getting up and going, and not having to answer any weird questions. But Bobby knew he did the same thing himself - that is, attempted to pry into others private lives in the belief that maybe he could help them work through them. Bobby doubted John was all that altruistic, but John at least wouldn't be asking just to make small talk. "Like I said - family. Things weren't so hot when I left home. I keep wondering when the divorce is gonna happen, what's gonna happen to Rony, hell, who'll have 'legal custody,'" there was a bit of acid in his tone on that phrase, "over me." Bobby waved a hand absently.

"Cause of the, you know," John asked, tapping the empty ice cream carton with his spoon. "Mutant thing?" It was understandable that someone's parents would freak out over their kid being an ice king. But it wasn't right. "That sucks." Yes, that's how John sympathized with people. He lifted his now full spoon to his mouth and was about to eat the cereal, when somewhere between his mind and his hand, some neuron misshot it's signal and John hit himself in the face with the spoon. There was cereal all down the front of his shirt. "Well, shit."

"They don't know-" But then John hit himself in the face with a spoon, and Bobby started laughing. "Graceful Johnny, really graceful." Without being asked, Bobby went to grab some paper towels and dry John off - whether or not John really wanted the help or not.

"You're touching me," John said, moving away from Bobby and his towels. He ripped off his shirt because it was clinging to him in a sticky manner and wiped away the cold milk on his chest.

"How astute Johnny." Bobby said dryly. "Yes, people touch one another sometimes." Huh, John was kinda skinny.

"Stop looking at me." It was almost a whine. John was smaller than most guys his age and he was a little self conscious about that. He cast his eyes down to the shirt in his hand and picked up the spoon that he has dropped on the table.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Grow up John. What? Would it help if I were shirtless too or something? Yeesh."

"...Yes." Shifty eyes. John would feel more comfortable then. Or less comfortable. He wasn't exactly sure yet.

Bobby shook his head, and off came the shirt! "There, happy? Better?" Bobby left the shirt on the counter, and tossed the empty carton in the trash and washed the spoon off in the sink. He wasn't particularly bothered by the air conditioner - Bobby was used to being cold.

Why did Bobby have to be so much bigger than him? John's self esteem was down the drain. "Maybe," John said with a shiver. Bobby might not have a problem with the air conditioner but he sure did.

"You can use my shirt if you're cold." Bobby wasn't a mean guy, and it was only a shirt. And maybe John, being a fire-boy, got cold more easily. Or felt it more easily anyway.

"No thanks, because what if someone walks in here and sees us like that," John pointed out, sitting back down and leaning against the table. Then again, if someone saw them now with no shirts, they'd probably think the same thing.

"Like what?" Bobby's brow furrowed, because he wasn't dirty minded in the least. Nope, not at all... well, he could be, but Bobby's mind was elsewhere and only needed some prodding in the right direction.

"Middle of the night, two of us alone, shirtless," John said, with an unsaid 'Duh' at the end of that sentence. Man, how old was Bobby that he wasn't thinking dirty things most hours of the day?

Bobby rolled his eyes. "They'd just probably figure we don't sleep in shirts. Or they're dirty. C'mon man."

"Most people our age are dirty," John pointed out. "Plus, our shirts are here, just not on. Think about it."

Bobby nodded, it not quite sinking in just yet - and when it did, announced itself by the flaming blush Bobby developed. "But... I mean, c'mon! We're guys!" Which was apparently enough for Bobby. Though he did think John had some very nice hands. No no no!

John tilted his head to one side. "And? You know there's such a thing as being gay, right?" Was Bobby homophobic? Or was he that sheltered? Is that why didn't get it until now?

"Yes I know!" Now Bobby was annoyed. "It's just not something I normally take into consideration!"

"Why?" John asked. He liked asking questions. It stopped other people from asking them first.

"It's never been an issue!" Bobby eyed John. "Why do you care?"

"Because it annoys you," John said, with a slight grin.

"Great. Do you have any other talents besides being annoying? Or is this what I'm going to have to look forward too until next year?"

"I have other talents, but you'll have to ask my ex-girlfriends about what they are." Smirk. John wanted to see how far he could push it.

"I don't think so. All the laughing might hurt your fragile ego." Bobby matched John's smirk for one of his own.

"Burn." John gave it to him. He finished his cereal and stood to wash his bowl and spoon. In his way to get to the sink, he accidentally brushed up against Bobby's arm. Wow, he thought. Bobby was definitely not scrawny.

It wasn't as if Bobby went out of his way to put on muscle, it just kinda... happened. Bobby liked to write it off to basketball. Lots and lots of it. "More like freeze." Yeow, bad puns? Someone was aiming for super-hero-hood someday.

"Just because you have powers doesn't give you the right to pretend you're Spiderman." Everyone knew who Spiderman was. John turned away from the sink and bumped into Bobby's back.

Bobby froze - metaphorically speaking. John was warm. Very warm. "Hey, maybe I'll be a hero someday." ... ok, that was lame but it was the only thing Bobby could think of to cover up his reaction to John. He wasn't gay! They just talked about that!

Cold. Bobby was cold. But it felt nice. John didn't move. "Right, and I'll try to take over the world someday," John said, thinking it was highly unlikely he would. He didn't have that kind of ambition. At least, he didn't think he did.

"And you can wear a funny outfit and laugh really loud, and I will storm your compound with my superhero friends and lame puns. And you can have a death-ray." Bobby laughed, and leaned ever so minutely towards John. He wanted more of that warmth and expected it to be removed any second now.

Did he look red? Because John was pretty sure he was blushing something awful. "I'll have a cat too. A big cat that I can have attack your friends so I can take care of you myself. Because you'll be my arch-nemesis, that has wronged me greatly in the past." Moving away? Him? Nothing doing.

"But it wasn't really me." Bobby decided. "But a situation that looked pretty damning so you took it wrong, and things were never the same since." Bobby was afraid to move. They'd reached a sort of equilibrium, and Bobby wasn't sure what would happen when it shifted.

"What did you do, Iceboy, to make me think that?" John asked. Oh God, he could feel Bobby's breath on his face. Chilled air. It felt good against his heated skin. Two shuffling steps forward and they would be kissing. Did John just think that? Did he want to kiss Bobby?

"hmm. Maybe there was a girl. They like making a mess of things." Foreshadowing, though Bobby didn't realize it. In the future, he would look back on this conversation and kick himself repeatedly. But Bobby was reaching out slowly to put a hand on John's shoulder to keep John from going anywhere.

"A girl huh?" John asked, not shrinking away from the hand. So cold. So nice. But Bobby didn't need a hand to keep John there. He wasn't going to go anywhere for awhile. "Figures there would be a girl involved. There always is." And he hated this girl already, this made up girl he didn't even know. Because of her, he and Bobby were arch nemesis.

But this girl was a long way off, not made up, but not there yet and Bobby wouldn't recognize her as the one they talked about until it was too late. "But maybe we won't have to kill each other."

"Why? When you have an arch nemesis, one eventually kills the other. It's like, law, man. It has to happen," John stated. Unless there was more to the story than either of them knew. Which there was. It just hadn't happened yet.

"But a balance is needed. Fire and ice man. You can't have one without the other." Two sides of the same coin, really.

"Then I know what we have to do," John said, after a moment's thought. "We kill the girl. She was the one that interrupted the balance, right?"

Bobby started, jerking back as if burned. "John!" Because she wouldn't mean it. Then Bobby started laughing. "That's not how the comics go!" But life wasn't a comic book.

John shrugged, smiling slightly. "If I was in charge of comics, it would be." Didn't matter if she didn't mean it. She would still have to pay for coming in between the great powers of fire and ice.

She wasn't supposed to be there. It would even be in her assumed name - a misplaced element, not belonging. "I guess I'll have to be glad you're not writing it eh?" Balance, there was balance now. Precarious but there. And it could be stronger yet.

"You only wish I was writing it." Did Bobby feel it? There was...something more than fire and ice between them. If John was writing this story, they would be up against a wall, making out. Or on the table. It really didn't matter because right now, John wanted to kiss Bobby. To find out if Bobby was cold inside like he was on the outside.

"Dream on man." Bobby felt something. Bobby felt potential, something that could last if undisturbed. Balance. And John's skin was warm under his hand - Bobby hadn't moved it. John wasn't soft or smooth, but there was a texture there Bobby liked. And John was warm. Cold was absence of heat and John had heat to spare.

John shuffled forward a bit, so they were closer, chests slightly touching. "You're touching me," he pointed out, referring to the hand that was on him. Normally, he didn't like to be touched. Right now? John didn't mind so much because it was Bobby, and possibly, the cold to his hot.

"I can stop?" But despite the offer Bobby edged forward somewhat as well - they were practically chest to chest now, and Bobby could feel John's heat through the thin gap of air that separated them now. Was this right? They had talked about balance... Bobby wasn't quire sure he wanted to give it definite form just yet. But for some reason waiting seemed... unnatural. But what did John think?

John didn't think because as soon as Bobby moved forward, John was pressing his lips against the other boys. _Now_, if someone walked into the kitchen, they would definitely think something was up. But screw them because John was finding his balance, their balance, and that was more important. That and Bobby's mouth.

Bobby 'mpph'ed in surprise as something that had been vague quite suddenly became concrete, before grabbing hold of John with his remaining free hand to pull John in, closing the gap and 'sealing the deal' so to speak. Something told Bobby this could last, and while there was a part of him insisting that they hadn't even talked about anything like _this_ except in jest, Bobby was still very much a teenager in several important ways. And John had the heat that Bobby needed.

John would later say he was under the influence of Jubilee's Sugar Bombs, but really, he had wanted to kiss Bobby since the first time Bobby had touched him. It had felt right and he had craved more and to get more than this, he ran his tongue over Bobby's bottom lip, seeking entrance into the cold inside.

It didn't require thought - though later Bobby would be mortified and wonder why that didn't snap him out of it, why it seemed acceptable to let John in like that. Bobby wasn't exactly a skilled kisser - he'd had very few girlfriends, and it had all been very chaste, really. He'd never gotten anywhere near as far with them as he was with John within such a short time. That should have alarmed him, set off warning bells. But John was warm and Bobby was cold and it felt far too right to stop. John tasted sweet, but underneath was a woodsmoke taste. Like charred wood and BBQ that made Bobby's chest constrict with memories of home and how things used to be, even as Bobby explored John's conveniently naked back with one hand.

John fully expected resistance because Bobby didn't seem like he would be into kissing other boys. Hell, John wasn't into kissing other boys, but there you have it. John was and he liked it. Maybe Bobby knew this was the way it was suppose to be, that fate had known this was suppose to happen so it had the Professor pair them as roommates. Then from there, fate had planned to give Bobby problems with his family so he would be up at all sorts of hours during the night and that fate would have John find him tonight and then have him have a brain fart where he stabbed himself with his own spoon, which would lead to shirtlessness and then eventually, kissing. Because if fate had known this and had planned this, John was very happy with his fate. And Bobby's tongue. Which was in his mouth. Skilled kisser, perhaps not. But good kisser nonetheless.

But what fate gives, she can take away, though that was still a long while down the road.

Bobby tended to make up lack of skill with enthusiasm. His entire world had rather unexpectedly narrowed down to John. John's heat and mouth and chest and heartbeat and like a kid discovering something new Bobby couldn't help but want more. Bobby could be _demanding_ in his own way.

Then there was that nifty little thing called breathing that came into play and John pulled back, not moving away as he rested his forehead against Bobby's. He didn't say anything and just looked at Bobby's lips. They were swollen. And he had done that. John felt an odd sense of pride.

Bobby panted slightly, every time his chest rose and fell he carried John with him and that was perfectly fine. It was better than fine actually, but Bobby didn't have words. What was this? Did this mean he was gay? ... ok, did that really matter? Not really. What mattered was that Bobby wanted to do that again, but what did John want? "John?" Bobby's voice held some traces of confusion. Bobby had some vague notions about what he wanted, but...

Licking his lips and making them gleam in the light, he asked in a slightly hoarse voice, "Yeah?" Please don't freak out, please don't freak out...was John's mental chant. He didn't want to have to deal with the awkwardness and the broken balance if Bobby freaked out.

Bobby swallowed. "I... want this. Do you?" Not to say that Bobby wasn't nervous as hell to ask that. But it was going to be said and there was no point in dragging it out. But once Bobby said it... it seemed stupid. He already knew the answer.

"What do you think, Drake?" John asked him with a snort. It was happening fast, way too fast, but John didn't care. He flowed with it instead of fighting it. It was fate. "What now?"

"I don't know. I guess all that's left now is to... just go with it." Bobby let a hand go down John's spine absently. "And don't call me Drake, Johnny. Seriously." How as Bobby supposed to know that the people who gave him that name would reject him?

Johnny. How he hated that name. His father used to call him Johnny, right before he beat him black and blue. But it didn't bother him much when Bobby said it. "Go with it, I like that plan. Can we go with it in our room?" He asked. Sure, he didn't really care who saw them, but if a teacher caught them, there would be chores to do. John hated chores.

Bobby laughed. "Sounds good to me." Because from here on out, a lot of things John said would sound good to Bobby.


End file.
